chlorinated memories

I love the smell of my hands after a swim in the pool. The smell of chlorine mixed with soap reminds me of how much I loved my childhood swim team days. M-F early mornings in the cold pool with friends. Saturday mornings with Mom and Dad (and sisters). Dad judging the events and Mom working the snack bar. The awesome feeling of finishing that last relay and hoping that we made the “padonia cut”. I remember that horrible summer when I was on accutane and it made me burn instantly, so I spent my Saturday meets in long sleeves, SPF 50 and a hat which I dunked completely in the diving well between events. What a hoot.

I am not a fast swimmer, nor can I swim very long. But there is just something about being in the water that makes me feel alive. Despite my layers of blubber, my imagination has me as a lanky swimmer (perhaps the body of my teen years?) and I feel free.

I sincerely hope that everyone has the “one thing” that makes them feel free, strong, and safe. So many around me are struggling with life, love, and other mysteries right now that I pray that they each have a haven of hope. Unrelated to material possessions or other people. That place where they may return.

Perhaps it is in this chlorinated freedom that I find God. In returning to me, you shall find rest, so it goes….it is almost like the return each week to the water is a return to Him, who provides that rest and security.

I wish this for all around me.

Peace today to you, dear reader.

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